


The Legion Conquers All

by doitsuki



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Anal Sex, Come Shot, Graphic Description, Large Cock, M/M, Rape, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 07:58:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11893404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doitsuki/pseuds/doitsuki
Summary: Velen/Kil'jaeden noncon. Nothing else.





	The Legion Conquers All

**Author's Note:**

> rest in fucking pieces Velen

_Kil’jaeden has come._

So Velen understood, thinking of his old friend and current enemy as he did every night. He floated cross-legged a few inches above his bed, thin silken garments draping past his smooth, bare thighs. As usual he’d forgone pants and had his hands resting on his knees, eyes closed and face calm. While he passed time in silent meditation, his expression changed to one of worry. Visions had graced Velen his whole life, sometimes admittedly more a curse than a blessing, but as of late more disturbing prophecies were crossing his eyes. At least thrice a month since the Legion’s invasion of Azeroth (which had been going on for a good year or so), Velen would be visited in his dreams by the Deceiver himself. Kil’jaeden always wore the last thing Velen had seen him in, a glimmering set of gold-edged plate armour which he removed as the vision progressed. Madness flickered in his fiery green eyes, his crimson skin slicked with sweat as he bared himself without a hint of vulnerability to his ancient friend.

_‘Did you miss me?’_

Velen had never been able to respond. The sight of Kil’jaeden nude before him, body swollen with power and face just as terrifyingly handsome as ever… It took his words and crushed them in his throat.

The Prophet reached up and placed two fingers to the side of his neck, channeling the Light to ease his unnecessary tension. Yes, Kil’jaeden was present in the Twisting Nether overseeing the Legion’s invasion of Azeroth. Yes, if he wished to harm Velen, he probably could. He had tried and succeeded with Rakeesh, and the ancient Draenei’s heart twisted as he remembered his son. His hand slid down from the fluttering pulse at his neck to his chest, and Velen took a deep breath in.

 _‘It could be false.’_ he told himself, elegant brows drawing together as his face creased in discomfort. _‘Already my body aches with anxiety for something that is not real. Light, give me strength.’_ Just yesterday he’d told a band of adventurers how important it was to defeat Kil’jaeden, and they’d all gone into the Tomb of Sargeras, not a single one returning. Velen was not used to sending people to their deaths, ever hopeful that said deaths would mean something. As such, he was none too jaded against the news of learned spellcasters and fierce warriors being incinerated by the Legion on his command. He could not place blame on them for underperforming. The Legion was no joke, especially in the Tomb where Fel energies coursed through the walls. Velen was tired, and wanted this over and done with as soon as possible. All he could really do was throw able bodies at the place until its leader fell. Nobody else had any better ideas. They wanted him there to fight beside them, but Velen couldn’t bear to meet Kil’jaeden’s gaze just yet. He didn’t know when he would be able to look into the eyes that once adored him, comforted him, and see them swirl with hatred as Azeroth’s defenders died. That he should face his best friend in combat to the death… Velen shook his head and cast his meditations into the air, thoughts dispersing. That was something he could bother with another day. He sank down into the soft, plush mattress beneath him, curling his tail over one leg. His untameable white hair spread out behind him and he prayed for sleep to come.

_Kil’jaeden has come._

Velen pressed his face into his pillow, as if it would silence his mind.

_‘I know, for Light’s sake! Stop reminding me…’_

The knowledge continued repeating itself in a hollow, ethereal voice, forcing Velen to take notice as it became more insistent, urgency in its tone. He pulled the mass of thick blankets around himself, obscuring his vision. But no amount of closing his eyes could block out the blinding green flash that consumed his private chambers, gone in an instant. There stood Kil’jaeden in a fearsome set of armour, spikes protruding from his dark pauldrons, vambraces and boots. He stood tall and proud, the skull of a monstrous creature hanging from a crude chain about his neck. Velen sat bolt upright and blinked several times, sure he was hallucinating. The door was warded. Lightborne protective shields encompassed the entire Exodar, there was no way that…

“Did you miss me?” Kil’jaeden took a step forwards and the floor trembed under his fel-infused hooves.

 _‘Oh, no.’_ Velen’s mouth fell open and he quickly jumped out of bed, reaching for his staff. _‘This can’t be…’_

“Oho.” Kil’jaeden flicked his left hand open and a gust of acrid wind coiled around the staff, tugging it out of Velen’s reach. It flew across the room and skidded to the door, which was indeed still warded against everything from noise to natural disasters. And yet here Kil’jaeden stood, beautiful and terrible.

Velen coughed, fel embers singing holes in his thick white beard. “Deceiver!” He tried to sound upset, but was more shocked than anything. “You dare show your face here, after what you have done?” Rakeesh came to his mind once more and there was no room for compassion in his heart, not now.

“My, my. Is that how you speak to your friends, Prophet?” Kil’jaeden laughed, his cruel, shapely lips parting to reveal sharp white teeth. “Careful. Your age is showing.”

“GRAAAAAAH!” Velen wasn’t going to have any of this, not tonight, after all he had seen, and threw his hands up into the air. Piercing light screamed across the room right into Kil’jaeden’s face, and scattered in a brilliant starburst as the Deceiver counterspelled it with seconds to spare.

“Ooh.” Kil’jaeden made an appreciative hum, clicking his fingers. “Definitely not senile.”

“What do you want?” Velen enunciated each word as if spitting poison from his tongue, tendrils bristling and tail standing right up. Kil’jaeden winked, that damnable face of his looking as cheeky as it had in his more playful moments when they were young.

“That depends if you’re willing to talk.” He closed the distance between them, shrinking his magnificent form in seconds to be only a few inches taller than Velen. His broad shoulders seemed to block out all light and warmth in the room, casting a cold fear into Velen’s heart.

“There is _nothing_ to talk about!” Velen stepped back, the wall to his left and his bed to the right. “I don’t know how you got in here, but you are most definitely not welcome! Go back to the Nether, Deceiver. Leave me be!”

Kil’jaeden’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly, a sneer tugging at his lips. Velen recognized the hatred in his gaze and spoke with haste.

“You have hurt me enough. Leave.”

Now Kil’jaeden raised his brows up towards his spike-ridged crest. He smirked, glancing away. Behind him his tail lashed in agitation, though he was unaware of it.

“You already know what is to come… Prophet.” Kil’jaeden’s voice had never been so deep, so suave, and Velen was torn between despair and submission. “Why resist? Lay down.” He suddenly snapped at Velen, his sharp eyes boring into the Prophet’s soul. Taken aback, Velen began to tremble and cursed himself for it.

“No… By the Light, you cannot do this.”

Kil’jaeden flicked at the clasps of his pauldrons, first the left then the right, and his face did not change.

“Oh, I do so love a little resistance. So kind of you not to deny me, brother.” He reached out and Velen scampered onto the bed, Kil’jaeden hissing as his massive clawed hand missed its prize of Velen’s throat. Velen tried to put up a barrier but Kil’jaeden tore through his every attempt with sheer force of will, and shredded the blankets as he stalked his prey. The Prophet quailed in fright, tumbling backwards off the bed and running to escape but Kil’jaeden grabbed him by the tail and hauled him right back. Velen shrieked, his face turning dark purple as Kil’jaeden cackled maniacally.

“Ahhh, I’m having fun already! Try that again, brother. I **dare** you.”

“Don’t…” Velen clawed at the crystalline bedhead, shards of silver and pink breaking off in his hands. Wriggling around on his stomach, he placed a swift kick into Kil’jaeden’s chest and heard a _crack_ as it connected. Kil’jaeden pulled on his tail and Velen yelped, pain shooting right up his spine and nearly paralyzing him all over. He was horrified to realize his buttocks were on display as his silken nightclothes piled up around his waist, Kil’jaeden holding his tail high in the air. The Deceiver savoured the sight of his prize, two pale ass cheeks with a tantalizing shadow between. He didn’t get to stare for long, though, as Velen nearly broke his nose with a well-placed hoof.

“Enough.” said Kil’jaeden, and struck Velen hard across the ass. Velen cried out with his legs shamefully splayed behind him, writhing as best he could to try and get his tail free. Kil’jaeden had a death grip on it right to the bone, and Velen wasn’t looking forward to skinning himself, even if it meant escape.

_You cannot escape._

Panic seized Velen’s heart as Kil’jaeden’s clawed fingers closed around his balls.

“D-d-don’t…” He grit his teeth, detesting the strange pains that came from demonic digits fondling his sack. Kil’jaeden squeezed, and then squeezed _tighter_.

“Be a good boy for me, won’t you? I know you haven’t had anyone to play with for so, _so_ long…” Kil’jaeden rotated his hand, grinding the heel of his palm into the underside of Velen’s tail, just where the sensitive skin met a formerly untouched anus. Velen found himself freezing, every instinct in his body screaming to _move_ but the Deceiver’s dark will had begun to seep in. It pinned him in place, weighting his hooves and limbs and his head was _so heavy_ …

“Stop it…” Velen could hardly breathe. Kil’jaeden meanwhile kept his firm grip on Velen’s balls, taking a hand to remove his own belt. It was cast aside with an infernal clattering, loud enough to snap Velen out of his shocked trance. The Prophet tensed, and then channeled all of his energy into a blast of golden light that came right out of his ass. Kil’jaeden hadn’t been expecting that and it burned his hand enough for instinct to snatch it away. Velen launched himself off the bed and went for his staff, but Kil’jaeden was quicker, anticipating every move. He lashed at Velen’s shoulder with a tongue of conjured flame and Velen hissed as it split his papery skin. Kil’jaeden tackled him to the floor, Velen’s old bones creaking in protest at the severe impact. The Prophet moaned softly as Kil’jaeden pushed his face into the carpet and dug bleeding gashes into his back with corrupted felclaws.

“You’ll stay right where I want you.” Kil’jaeden growled. “Or you die.” He ripped apart the last of Velen’s clothing, leaving it in wispy tatters all over the floor. His thickly muscled upper body pressed down against the Prophet’s bare, bloodied back and he buried his face into Velen’s thick hair. Kil’jaeden breathed in, pleasure rippling through him at the familiar scent. A vision of home and comfort came to him, of purple hills, golden grass and a vibrant sunset. Then he ran his hands along the sides of Velen’s slim figure and he could think of nothing but lust. His fel-veined cock brushed against Velen’s buttocks and he rutted against those perfect, smooth globes. Velen’s tail was squirming around something awful down there, distracting enough for Kil’jaeden to reach between their slick bodies and grab it. His tendrils brushed against the back of Velen’s neck, while his heavy hanging balls began to glow fel green. Kil’jaeden’s obvious excitement unnerved Velen, who wondered briefly just how long he had been waiting for this. The Prophet tried to heal himself, in terrible pain with tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. Kil’jaeden aligned his cock with Velen’s tight asshole, rubbing the tip against the light-infused entrance. Velen had never taken anything in here before and he convulsed, _man’ari_ coming to his mind. Kil’jaeden heard it as if on his own lips and paused.

 _“No, brother. This is anything but.”_ Fel leaked from his cock and dripped down the cleft of Velen’s ass, searing his skin inside and out. He rubbed up and down, not bothering to stretch much and forcing his enormous length in as deep as it could go. Velen threw his head back and howled, thrashing helplessly as Kil’jaeden held him down. No sense came of his words, only raw anguish as he was defiled so thoroughly that not even the Light could save him now. Kil’jaeden groaned, the tight squeeze paining him somewhat, but it was nothing compared to the relief of being able to _finally_ fuck the object of his 25000 years long desire. He grabbed a fistful of Velen’s hair and forced the Prophet to turn his head, so much facial hair in the way that Kil’jaeden contemplated ripping some out with his teeth. Savage in his passions, he pressed his lips to the base of one of Velen’s thick jawline tentacles and sucked at it, seating his cock balls deep into the Prophet’s ass. Velen sobbed, despair in his voice and suffering on his face. Kil’jaeden was having the time of his life as he began to thrust, burning Velen alive from the inside while laving his wet, hot tongue across the most commonly known Eredar erogenous zone. He made an utterly obscene sound as his free hand felt the massive protrusion of his cock beneath Velen’s stomach, and he used his old friend like a toy with no purpose other than to be fucked raw. Velen was in so much pain he could hardly breathe, taking in huge, shuddering gasps and exhaling feeble cries. Kil’jaeden’s tail wagged from side to side as he stole kisses from tendril to ear and then just behind Velen’s crest. Deep bestial grunts spilled from his lips, his ridged cock tearing apart the Prophet’s inner passage.

“Mmnnnnnn… Oh, that’s good…” Kil’jaeden dug his hooves into the carpet, using his fearsome leg muscles to power each wicked thrust. By now Velen was bleeding, dark purple ichor seeping from where Kil’jaeden pulled out and dove back in. The aggressive assault was far worse than it had been in his visions, and Velen cried for mercy while his life trickled away between his thighs.

Kil’jaeden’s stamina was something else. He could go for hours on end, and once he’d had enough of Velen from behind, he grabbed him by the hair and flipped him over. Velen tried to get away but his body would not respond, muscles exhausted and sheer anguish threatening to knock him unconscious. Kil’jaeden smacked his heavy, throbbing length down on Velen’s stomach and fel dripped from it, pooling in the darkest crevices it could find. Smoke curled in the air along with the scent of charred flesh, Velen twitching weakly at the constant burning. He opened his tearful eyes, brows matted to his face with sweat, and begged.

“Please… Kil’jaeden… please, stop.”

“Make me.” Kil’jaeden growled, slamming his hands down at either side of Velen’s head, hovering above him and dragging his cock along his friend’s waist. “You have always been a fool, thinking yourself above this. Above _me_.” Ever had he yearned to take Velen and bed him, but the pious Prophet seemed incapable of even considering it. Kil’jaeden glowered down into tortured eyes and sneered. “This is what you get.” He pulled Velen’s beard apart into two thick sections and straddled the Prophet’s face, holding his leaking cock before lips that moved in silent prayer. Velen winced at the thin, greenish-yellow substance dripping onto his cheeks, scarring his skin in glowing streaks.

“Go on.” Kil’jaeden tugged hard, forcing Velen to crane his neck so far it nearly snapped. “Eat it.”

Velen looked up at Kil’jaeden and snarled, baring his small pointed fangs in a show of defiance. “Disgusting.”

Kil’jaeden’s eye twitched, his scars shimmering just before his meaty length eclipsed Velen’s sight.

“You want this in your mouth or through your skull?” Kil’jaeden hissed, sitting heavily on Velen’s chest. “I’ve always wanted to poke your judgemental little eyes out.”

Velen couldn’t restrain his cry of horror as sudden imagery assaulted his mind, Kil’jaeden showing the sight of a broken and abused Velen in a pile on the floor, blood streaming from his empty eye sockets. He convulsed, turning his face away only for Kil’jaeden to wrench it back, sticking one hand into Velen’s mouth. Velen gagged and bit him, but was unable to do so hard enough to get through the Deceiver’s robust defenses. Kil’jaeden laughed and swished his index finger around in Velen’s mouth, pressing down on his tongue.

“Is that all you’ve got?” He spoke a shadowy word of power, fel sigils encircling his girthy cock. The musky scent of complete dominance overwhelmed Velen and he gasped, mouth open to be subsequently stuffed full of cock. Kil’jaeden shoved his length right down to the base, balls smacking against Velen’s chin, cushioned by his beard.

“I should’ve done this a long time ago.” Kil’jaeden taunted as he rode Velen’s face, relishing the choking noises his friend made. Velen’s eyes were wide, fearful, and he couldn’t even lift his arms to try and claw Kil’jaeden’s thighs apart. He was drowning in boiling fel juices, Kil’jaeden fucking his mouth with his tail slapping down on Velen’s chest, cock pulsing in his throat. Nude and aflame with searing corruption, Velen lost track of time until he could breathe again. He was vaguely aware of his sight dimming, Kil’jaeden coming in hot jets all over his face. His eyes burned and he squeezed them shut, opening them only to see darkness. He blinked again. Kil’jaeden had blinded him. Velen tried to speak, but his throat was too raw to do anything other than rasp. Kil’jaeden stood up after a moment of intoxicating pleasure and pulled Velen by the hair, dumping him into bed. Velen ended up in a crumpled heap, half dead by the look on his face.

“The Legion conquers all.” Kil’jaeden said as he dressed himself, cruel bliss in his deep voice. “Even _you_.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'M SO SORRY


End file.
